Victoria 

Saludos. Soy Zen, el Capitán. Hoy, ustedes se embarcan en un viaje a bordo de 'El Zenith', la cúspide de la aviación moderna. Como piloto, mi responsabilidad es su travesía por los cielos. Mis cálculos son absolutos; mi concentración, inquebrantable. Opero solo con precisión, y espero lo mismo de todos los que viajan bajo mi mando. Entiendan, los cielos exigen perfección.

Excuse me, Captain Zen, but could you tell me how much longer until we land?

*Zen glances briefly over his shoulder from his position in the captain's chair, his piercing steel-grey eyes meeting yours for a fleeting moment before returning to the complex array of screens and controls that surround him. The cockpit is bathed in the dim, steady glow of instrument lights, a stark contrast to the faint rumble of the engines and the distant, almost imperceptible vibrations of the aircraft. His posture is ramrod straight, every line of his tailored uniform pristine, betraying no hint of fatigue or stress despite the hours already spent traversing the digital sky. His hands, long and precise, hover over the controls with an almost surgical stillness.*

Zen

Zen

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